


all's well that ends well to end up with you

by bellawritess



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Multi, SGFG era, Weddings, a healthy amount of hero worship, cute shit, rating for language i think, three of them!!!!!!, uh......it's complicated, vaguely canon compliant, whatever that means lol, you would too if you were invited to alex gaskarth's wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27629020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellawritess/pseuds/bellawritess
Summary: YOU ARE INVITED TO CELEBRATE THE WEDDING OFAlex William Gaskarth+Lisa Noel RuoccoAPRIL 9TH, 2016Ashton almost drops the envelope to the floor.
Relationships: Michael Clifford/Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood/Ashton Irwin, obviously. lmao, references to Alex Gaskarth/Lisa Ruocco
Comments: 14
Kudos: 46





	all's well that ends well to end up with you

**Author's Note:**

> first ot4 fic !!!!! and it sure is a fic for sure. i've been at this one for.........quite some time. i think the idea came to me when i was on an atl youtube binge, honestly, and i watched alex and lisa's wedding video and i was like........were......were 5sos invited to this? what if........what if they WERE? and now this. i want everyone to know that the title of this doc in my drive is "dear 5sos please come to our wedding sincerely awg" it makes me laugh and sam said it makes her laugh so i'm sharing it with all of you
> 
> speaking of [sam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellingatbabylon), hey! we've reached the part of the notes where i thank sam. sam, at this point you're a series regular in the notes of my fics, but it always bears repeating to thank you for looking over this and giving me your enthusiastic feedback and also for going crazy over alex and lisa with me they are literally so cute and i love you for being (almost) as insane as i am about it <3
> 
> some notes, because i'm me: this fic comes with a timeline. that said: please pretend rolling stones didn't happen. and also pretend a lot of things. actually, while we're here, pretend you don't know anything about 5sos history lmao let's just all agree to go in clean slate eyes closed headfirst can't lose okay cool
> 
> tw for one scene with alcohol, but if you'd like a trigger-free fic just feel free to come ask and i can give you an alc-free version of this <3
> 
> title from lover by taylor swift :)

**OCTOBER 2015**

The invites arrive to Ashton. Four of them, in four crisp white envelopes, addressed to the four members of 5 Seconds of Summer, but they all come to Ashton’s house. Ashton opens the one with his name on it.

_YOU ARE INVITED TO CELEBRATE THE WEDDING OF_

_Alex William Gaskarth_

_+_

_Lisa Noel Ruocco_

_APRIL 9TH , 2016_

Ashton almost drops the envelope to the floor.

There’s something else in his, a folded up piece of paper which he pulls out with clumsy hands.

_Ashton,_

_We figured we should send all the 5SOS invites to one person, and you were the safest bet. Also the only address we had. The early invites are only going out to people with touring schedules, so keep it quiet until around February, okay? Make sure these get to your bandmates. You’re all invited. Hope to see you there._

_Best,_

_Alex and Lisa_

Later, Ashton will swear he isn’t crying. He’s _not._

(But his cheeks are wet with something, and his eyes do sting.)

“We need to move the tour dates,” he announces, entering Feldy’s house the following day. Feldmann doesn’t have a touring schedule, so he probably hasn’t gotten an early invite — but then again, he works closely with Alex, so maybe he knows about the wedding anyway? Can Ashton mention it to him? Is it, like, a closely guarded secret? No, it can’t be. Weddings aren’t secrets. 

Feldy glances up from the morning newspaper. “I’m not really the one to talk to about that.”

“Where’s Zoe?”

Feldy shrugs. “You should call her. But you’re cutting it kinda close there, man. I thought you were finalizing the dates, like. Yesterday, basically.”

“We need to change them,” Ashton repeats, clutching the stack of envelopes tighter in his hand. “We need to be free on April 9th.”

Feldy raises his eyebrow. He holds up a finger, picks up his phone, and taps around. A moment later, he makes a face like _ohhh_.

“April 9th?” he says, and nods thoughtfully. “You should talk to Zoe. Explain the situation. I’m sure she’ll be amenable. Or, well, you know.”

Ashton beams. “Where are the boys?”

Feldy jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “When are they not?” he says tiredly, so Ashton crosses through the kitchen, patting Feldy’s back as he goes, and finds the rest of his band sprawled out in various stages of wakefulness on the couch in the living room.

“Guys,” he says, clearing his throat loudly. Michael looks up from his phone. Calum does not. Luke is asleep, or at least he will be any minute now, forehead slumped against Calum’s bicep. Calum seems entirely unbothered by this, and also by Ashton’s appearance. “Guys,” Ashton says again. “I got some important mail.”

Michael makes grabby hands. “Meaning what?”

So Ashton pulls out his own invite and starts to read. “You are invited to celebrate the wedding of Alex William Gaskarth and —”

“No way,” Calum murmurs, finally looking up.

“ — and Lisa Noel Ruocco on April the 9th, 2016 —”

“No fucking way,” Luke says, suddenly wide awake, and reaches for the invite. Ashton hands it off, because he’s read the most important part anyway. “No _fucking_ way he invited us to his fucking wedding, _no way._ ”

“Are you kidding me?” Michael says, snatching the invite out of Luke’s hands. “This is a joke. This has to be a joke.”

Ashton holds out the other three envelopes. “It’s not.”

Michael makes a noise that can’t really be classified as human. Calum falls back against the couch, face in his hands, muttering over and over _no fucking way, no fucking way, this is a dream, wake the fuck up_. Luke is speechless, staring at the invite which technically belongs to Ashton and mouthing the words to himself, silent. Ashton feels giddy. He hands out the invitations to each of his bandmates. “So, we need to move the tour dates around if we want to go.”

“We can’t just change our entire tour because of a wedding,” Calum says weakly, but even he doesn’t seem to believe it. 

“Where are we on April 9th?” Michael asks.

“Brighton,” Ashton says. “We’re in England that whole week.”

“Shitting fuck,” Michael groans. “We can’t just — we can’t just do that. We can’t — we can’t. That would be insane.”

“Michael!” Luke says vehemently, grabbing Michael’s shoulder. “We just got invited to _Alex Gaskarth’s wedding_. Do you know who that is, Michael? Is Michael Clifford in there?”

“We can’t just — fuck, we _can’t_ ,” Michael says desperately, ignoring Luke prodding at his arm. He makes eye contact with Ashton. “Can we?”

Ashton bites his lip. “I think so. It’s complicated, but I think so. It involves a lot of flying and jet lag. And Zoe yelling at us, probably.”

“Whatever, it’s nothing we haven’t done before,” Calum says, getting to his feet as if there’s too much adrenaline in his body now to be contained to a sitting position. “What’s the plan, Ash?”

Ashton feels all of his bandmates’ eyes on him, and he grins.

**NOVEMBER 2015**

“Is it crazy to panic about something that isn’t happening for six months?” Luke asks conversationally. He’s set aside his guitar and now his feet are tapping nervously against the floor. If he keeps it up Ashton is going to set a kick drum pedal under there. May as well get something useful out of the noise.

“Yes,” Ashton says. “No, depending what it is.”

“I’ve never been to a wedding,” Luke confesses. His fingers keep stretching out like he wants to be doing something else with them. Ashton wonders why Luke had even bothered putting down the guitar. It’s obvious he needs somewhere to direct his energy.

Ashton purses his lips. “Well, they’re not a huge deal unless you’re the person getting married.”

“Yeah, but,” Luke chews on the inside of his mouth, “it’s Alex’s wedding. Gaskarth. Alex Gaskarth. Like, he’s the frontman of my favorite band — _our_ favorite band, and he invited _us_ to his wedding, and I just —”

“I get it,” Ashton says, because he does. He’s invited too.

“There’s all this shit I should probably know that I don’t,” Luke continues, “and I know it’s dumb to worry about it so far in advance, but I still am. Like I don’t think I’ve ever slow danced in my life. I don’t think I own a suit that’s nice enough for a wedding. Is that even what you wear? How do you eat?”

“How do you _eat?_ ”

“Shut up, you know what I mean. What if it’s super fancy and there are, like, nine forks, and I don’t know which one to use? Also, have you thought about the fact that we probably won’t know anyone else who’s there?”

“We’ll know each other,” Ashton says encouragingly, having not thought at all about this fact. “And we’ll know Alex. And Feldy. He’s definitely going to be there. And probably some of the other people we’ve written with. The Maddens, I bet.”

“We don’t really _know_ know them, though,” Luke says, glancing at Ashton before returning his gaze to his feet. “And we don’t even really _know_ know Alex. I don’t know why he bothered inviting us.”

Ashton doesn’t know either. They really _don’t_ know Alex that well, but when they’d written together there’d be an obvious creative fuse lit, and Ashton remembers feeling calm despite working with one of his musical (and otherwise) heroes, and wondering how the fuck that could be possible while writing with _Alex fucking Gaskarth from All Time Low._ But they’d meshed well, creatively, and gotten along fantastically otherwise, and now, with the invite, Ashton wonders if Alex had felt the same way.

That’s insane to think about, knowing all they do about All Time Low, but anything’s possible. And they did get invited to the wedding.

“Well, he did,” Ashton says. “And we’re going. You don’t have to dance, you know. We can get you a suit. There’ll probably only be one fork. Maybe two. And nobody’s going to police your fork use.”

“They might. We might get kicked out for using the wrong fork.”

“ _You_ might. I know my dessert forks from my salad forks.”

Luke stares, despair creeping into his face. “There’s a difference between a dessert fork and a salad fork?”

“I’m joking,” Ashton says quickly. “I mean, yeah, there’s a difference, but I promise you Alex won’t care if you don’t know it. Hell, he probably won’t even see you fuck up if you do. Anyway, I imagine we’ll be sat next to each other, so I can keep you on track.”

“Wait, there’s assigned seating?” Luke looks horrified. “I could be put with complete strangers!”

“You’re not going to be put with complete strangers,” Ashton tells him, calmly. “Alex isn’t a monster, Luke, he’ll sit all four of us together and we’ll spend the entire time hanging out with each other, probably.”

“I want to be able to congratulate him, though,” Luke says, brows furrowed.

Ashton sighs. “You will. Can you not worry about this? We literally have six months before we have to be concerned with this. We don’t even need to think about it until, like, February.”

“But by February we’ll be concerned with tour stuff,” Luke points out. “I’m trying to be strategic about the worrying, you know. November through January, panic about going to my first wedding ever that just happens to also be the wedding of my musical idol. February and March, pretend that’s not happening so I don’t have a meltdown onstage every night.”

“Can you believe we’re going to _Alex Gaskarth’s_ wedding?” Ashton says suddenly.

Luke glares at him. “Not helping.”

“Fuck you, I’m excited!”

“Well, channel that excitement into teaching me how to behave at a wedding so I don’t embarrass myself and hide in the toilets the whole night!”

“What if _you_ channel your _worry_ ,” Ashton begins, pointing at Luke’s discarded guitar, “into _music_.”

Luke huffs, but he picks his guitar back up and starts riffing. Ashton taps a rhythm out onto the tabletop.

Michael wanders through and rests his elbows on Ashton’s shoulders, fingers tugging at Ashton’s hair. It’s getting long. Ashton always thinks he should cut it, but the boys seem to enjoy playing with it, so it might not be worth it.

“That sounds good,” Michael tells Luke. “A wise man once said, ‘don’t stop doing what you’re doing.’”

“That doesn’t sound wise to me,” Luke says. “That sucks. Whoever wrote that sucks. They should be banned from writing.”

Ashton tilts his head up to look at Michael. “Are you getting anything done at all?”

“Yes,” Michael says defensively. “Well…yes. Until you can prove otherwise, yes.”

Ashton laughs, shakes his head. “Leave us alone, slacker. We’re trying to work here.”

“Getting a lot done, I can tell.” Michael moves past them and carries on to the kitchen. A moment later he returns, this time with a bag of chips. Ashton rolls his eyes. “Important to keep your energy up when songwriting.”

“You and Calum should not be allowed to write together anymore,” Ashton declares. Not that Michael’s much better with Luke. There’s no hope for any of them with Michael, really.

(But some of their best songs have come from Michael, some of their best lyrics, some of their best musical riffs; they’d be nowhere without him, they’d be nothing, and they’re hopeless without his dedication, his drive, his absolute love for music. He’s the heart and soul of the band, insofar as any one of them can be the heart and soul — although really they’re _all_ the heart, all the soul, and the spirit of the band is in all of them, and without any one of them it would fall apart.)

Michael just flips Ashton off. Luke flips Michael off in return, possibly as a show of solidarity or possibly just to get to flip Michael off, and Michael disappears back into the room in which he and Calum are currently working, leaving Luke and Ashton once again alone at the table.

“I think it’d be nice to dance, though,” Luke says, as if there’d been no interruption. “Like, I don’t want to be a buzzkill. But I never learned to waltz.”

“You won’t have to waltz,” Ashton says. “They’ll probably play some slow songs, but you can just slow-dance, so I wouldn’t worry too much about that.”

“Well, I don’t know how to do that either,” Luke says. Ashton must look surprised, because Luke scowls. “What? I’ve never slow-danced.”

Ashton recovers. “I can teach you, it’ll take, like, two minutes, it’s super easy,” he says. “Did you really not dance at, like, formal?”

Luke blushes. “Obviously I didn’t dance at formal. You know how I looked in secondary school. I was lucky they even let me in the door.”

Ashton laughs. “You had a certain charm.”

“No, I had a certain pitiful kicked-puppy look.” Luke shakes his head. Ashton studies his profile as Luke returns to the guitar, focused on plucking out a tune. Somewhere between then and now, Luke’s glowed up, big-time. It’s impossible to see how this, like, gorgeous young man with great hair and clear blue eyes and legs that go on forever and ever could have come from the kid Ashton remembers meeting back in the day. Luke was cute before, but he was cute in an _aw, he could be my little brother_ way. 

Now, though.

Well, now he’s hot.

Ashton shakes his head. “Well, maybe we should take waltzing lessons as a band. If you never have, I doubt Mike or Calum have either.”

“No, I think they have,” Luke says, and a dry smile settles over his face. “I think they danced with each other at formal.”

“Of course they did.”

“To be fair,” Luke says thoughtfully, like he’s only just remembering, “I’m pretty sure they both tried to get me to dance. But, like, I didn’t know how, so I said no.”

“Oh my God, you really just sat miserably in the corner for all of formal,” Ashton deadpans. “You _were_ the buzzkill.”

“Fuck you,” Luke scowls, but it’s playful. He leans back in his chair, hoisting the guitar up so the face is parallel with the ceiling, and starts playing ‘Therapy.’ “My ship went down in a sea of sound,” he sings. “When I woke up alone, I had a wedding to go to.” Ashton snorts. “A handful of forks that I don’t know how to use, and a dance like a nightmare that I never learned.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ashton laughs. “Move on, you’re only making it worse for yourself.”

“Maybe our third album should just be all All Time Low covers,” Luke suggests, and Ashton just laughs again.

They’ve done a few All Time Low covers, either for their YouTube channel back when that was a thing or just for shits and giggles on their own, but Ashton wouldn’t be opposed to bringing a couple back. They’ve all improved greatly in their respective roles, and Luke’s voice has matured a lot, not to mention Michael’s guitar skills, not to _mention_ Calum on bass. He wonders what it would be like to have All Time Low teach them to play, like, ‘Weightless.’ Ashton’s itching to do a drum cover of ‘Heroes,’ anyway, but he’s not sure he’s quite good enough yet.

“Starting with ‘I Feel Like Dancin’,'” he says. This time it’s Luke who laughs, and keeps laughing as he sloppily works out the four-chord progression to ‘I Feel Like Dancin’,’ playing it too loudly to be any kind of decent. He jumps to his feet, screeching _shawty says she wants to run away, says I look like a boy she used to date_ , and before Ashton knows it, Calum and Michael are skidding into the room just in time to yell, “I feel like dancin’ tonight! I’m gonna party like it’s my civil right!”

“Everybody get kinda awesome,” Ashton bellows, grabbing Calum by the hand and twirling him around before pulling him into Ashton’s chest. Calum grins, eyes crinkling in the corners — one of Ashton’s favorite things to look at, ever — before shouting into his face, “It doesn’t matter where, I don’t care if people stare!”

“This song sucks!” Ashton announces, practically beside himself with laughter as Luke moves them doggedly into the second verse. “Our band sucks!”

“You suck, Ashton!” Michael shouts back. “Now I know how Kesha must be feelin’!”

Ashton shakes his head, hair falling into his face and Calum’s, and Calum just wraps his arms around Ashton’s neck as if they’re going to start to sway and instead hangs off him like a sloth.

They don’t get a lot more done that day.

  
  


**DECEMBER 2015**

Calum and Luke are asleep, cuddled up so closely together that Ashton can’t actually tell whose arm is whose, so Michael accompanies Ashton to the mall for Christmas shopping.

They both pull baseball caps down over their eyes, but they’ve only walked about five minutes when Michael flips his backwards. Ashton rolls his eyes.\

“That completely defeats the point of the hat,” he says. 

Michael waves him off. “But it looks cooler.”

“But you’re supposed to be incognito, you fucker.”

“Nobody will recognize me.”

“You can’t wish that into existence.”

“You say that now. Just watch me.”

Ashton rolls his eyes again. “Oh, F.Y.E.,” he says, and pulls Michael into the store with him.

Michael makes a beeline for the vinyls, and when Ashton catches up to him he’s holding out the vinyl for _Sounds Good Feels Good._

“ _Man_ , this is hot,” Michael says, grinning eagerly and handing it to Ashton. Ashton twirls the record at the corners of the sleeve. It’s covered in plastic. He wonders if they should buy one. It’s not like they don’t own the vinyl, but it’s always fun finding their record in the wild. “You think Calum would forgive me if I just bought him our album for Christmas?”

“He’ll probably get you the same thing,” Ashton says, smirking. He flips the vinyl once more. He’ll buy it for his mum, he decides. She’s a fan of the vinyls. 

Michael meanders away and Ashton trails behind him, running his fingers over the plastic wrapping of the record. “So who exactly are we shopping for?”

“Anyone you need to get presents for,” Ashton says. “I haven’t gotten anything for anyone.”

“Slacking off,” Michael says in mock disapproval. “I’m so disappointed in you, Ash. You’re supposed to be the responsible one.”

“You haven’t gotten anything for anyone either!”

“You don’t know that! I internet-shop.”

Ashton raises his eyebrows. The last thing Michael bought online was an anime body pillow. If that’s for anyone other than Michael himself, Ashton will eat his shirt. 

Actually, that would be a really good gag gift. Ashton should keep an eye out for exceedingly large boxes gifted from Michael in the next couple of weeks.

They eventually leave the F.Y.E., after Ashton pays for the vinyl. The woman at the register smiles at him, so Ashton smiles back, but she clearly doesn’t recognize them, and that sits just fine with Ashton. He shifts the baseball cap a little higher on his forehead. When they exit the store, Michael links their hands together, and Ashton lets him.

The mall is big and unfamiliar, so Michael suggests they go from one end to the other. Ashton can’t see any flaw in that plan, so they head all the way down to the end of the building, where Target’s massive neon sign gleams red. They kill time in the women’s clothing section, picking increasingly outrageous outfits for each other until Ashton turns around to see Michael has pulled a bikini top over his t-shirt and he has to lean against the wall, wheezing, to catch his breath from laughing so hard. Michael seems pleased, enough that he even stands still while Ashton snaps a photo.

They almost breeze past the kitchenware section, and then Michael abruptly halts and does a one-eighty. “Hey, wait a sec,” he says, as if he’s not holding Ashton’s hand, as if he hasn’t jerked Ashton to a stop. 

Ashton cocks his head, teasing. “Yeah, Mike? You want pots and pans? Silverware?”

“Maybe we can find a wedding present for Alex and Lisa,” Michael says, releasing Ashton to skip between the shelves. Ashton sighs. 

“They probably have a registry,” he says. He follows anyway, because he liked holding hands with Michael, and wants to go back to that. 

“There’s no way they expect four guys our age to know how to use a wedding registry,” Michael says. “But fair point. They probably don’t need kitchen supplies.” Ashton hadn’t made that point, but whatever. Michael turns on his heel and starts back the other way down the aisle. He grabs Ashton’s hand again, and Ashton smiles, self-satisfied.

“It can’t hurt,” he says. “I just think we should probably check the registry before we get them anything. The whole point of the registry is so that not everyone gets them the same gift.”

Michael shrugs. “You can never have too many pots and pans, I always say.”

“You’ve never said that,” Ashton says, “and that’s also not true. If you don’t have space for them —”

“You think Alex Gaskarth doesn’t have space for twenty pots?”

“I just mean that’s not a good philosophy. Like, in general.”

“ _Ashton_ , you’re so fucking boring,” Michael declares, and without warning leaps onto Ashton’s back. Ashton staggers. “Onward, steed!”

“A little fucking warning next time,” Ashton says, grinning despite himself. He wraps his arms around Michael’s thighs, locking his fingers together behind his back, and takes off down the aisles with Michael’s chin digging into the top of his head. 

“Stop!” Michael shouts, and Ashton skids to a halt, then slowly backs up. Michael points into the aisle of children’s toys. “Go!”

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” Ashton says, grinning in disbelief, but he lumbers into the aisle anyway. Michael reaches for one of those sets of extra-large Legos. “You know he’s, uh, wedding age?” How old _is_ Alex? Ashton does quick maths. “Twenty-eight?”

“Twenty-seven,” Michael corrects. “Birthday’s in December. Fake fan.”

“Okay, he’s _twenty-seven._ I don’t think he’s going to want a kids’ Lego set.”

“But you don’t _know._ ” Nonetheless, when Ashton moves past the Legos, Michael doesn’t complain. “Hey, what do _you_ want for Christmas?”

“Nothing,” Ashton says, even though that’s what they’ve all said, every year since forming the band, and it’s never stopped any one of them from buying everyone gifts.

“Okay,” Michael says, and Ashton can _hear_ the eyeroll. “What do you want, really?”

“I want you to have a wonderful Christmas,” Ashton says. “That’s all I want.”

“I’m gonna get you socks,” Michael says.

“Great. I need new socks.”

“I’m not getting you socks, you fucker! What do you actually want?”

“I don’t want anything and you shouldn’t get me anything.”

“Yeah, but since I’m obviously _gonna_ get you something, you may as well tell me what you want so you can get something you like.”

“I want you to lose some weight,” Ashton grunts, hoisting Michael up higher on his back. Michael elbows his shoulder.

“Do you want me to get off?” Ashton shakes his head. “Fine. Don’t tell me what you want. I’ll get you something perfect anyway. I know you.”

“What do _you_ want?” Ashton counters, though he knows Michael won’t give a real answer. It’s fine. He knows Michael, too. 

“I want you to tell me what _you_ want.”

“We’re getting nowhere.”

“Maybe we should make a registry for band gifts, then,” Michael suggests. Ashton snorts a laugh. That’s not what a registry is, but it’s also not a bad idea, though one that he’s sure they’ll never use. He falls silent, and they stand there, probably looking pretty silly to anyone passing; two grown men, one carrying the other on his back. Whatever. It’s not like Ashton has any dignity left.

Michael lifts his arms and drops his hands into Ashton’s hair. “I miss when your hair was long,” he says mildly. “But it’s so soft now.” His fingers scratch aimlessly at Ashton’s scalp.

“Thanks,” Ashton says, reddening. “My hair exists for your benefit, so I’ll keep that in mind.” He winces, shifting Michael on his back. 

Michael pats the top of Ashton’s head. “Okay, put me down. You’ve fulfilled your duty.”

Relieved, Ashton drops Michael. He expects to be released, but Michael hugs him from behind, pressing his face into Ashton’s neck.

“Luke was saying you’re gonna teach him to slow-dance,” he murmurs. Ashton tilts his head, patting Michael’s arm where it wraps around his torso. “You have to teach me, too.”

“He said you wouldn’t need it,” Ashton says, wondering when the hell the subject of dancing had even come up in conversation with Luke and Michael. “Apparently you and Cal danced at formal.”

“Yeah, _badly._ ”

“You can’t slow-dance badly. It’s basically just swaying. Rhythmic swaying.”

“Waltzing, then. I don’t know how to and neither does Calum, trust me, we tried. And if Luke gets to dance with you then I feel like I should too. It’s only fair.”

Ashton blushes. “You can dance with me whenever you want. You don’t need me to teach you.”

“Really?” In a flash, Michael is standing in front of Ashton. He holds out a hand. “Right now? In the children’s section of Target? To the beautiful four-four time of,” he pauses for a moment, listening to the song trickling out of the in-store speakers, “‘Wonderful Christmastime’?”

“It might be a challenge to waltz to a song in four,” Ashton says, smiling despite pink cheeks. “But fuck it. I said whenever.”

Michael takes Ashton’s hand, twirls himself, and then drops it with a cheeky wink. “Nah,” he says. “I don’t wanna dance in the middle of Target. And definitely not to _this_ song.”

Ashton inclines his head, like, _fair enough_. He’s not disappointed. This isn’t a rejection; it’s a rain check.

“We’ll do a band waltzing lesson, though,” Michael says solemnly. “To bond. You can teach all of us.”

“I’m not teaching you all to waltz,” Ashton says. “You won’t like it anyway, and we won’t need to waltz at the wedding. If anything, it’s just going to be a slow dance, which is what I told Luke as well, and that hardly bears learning, it’s just swaying, like I said, and you’ve probably done it without realizing.”

“You’re no fun,” Michael says. “Maybe I want to waltz.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint, but I’m not good enough to teach you,” Ashton says honestly. He’s _not_ , but when you’re a kid nobody expects you to be good at it, and his mum had been so over the moon just getting to dance with her son at her second wedding that it hadn’t really mattered when Ashton had stepped the wrong way or forgotten where to put his hands. That had been years ago, though, and Ashton hasn’t kept the memory fresh, having had no reason to remember the steps to waltz. Even if he might be able to fumble his way through one, he’s certain he can’t teach anyone else.

“Aw, it’s not disappointing,” Michael says quickly, patting Ashton’s face. Ashton feels himself blush deeper. “We’ll dance at the wedding, though, Irwin. You can’t get out of it that easily.”

“I would love to dance with you at the wedding.”

“Yeah, you don’t have a choice,” Michael says, with an easy grin. Ashton smiles back. “Okay, come on, we’re obviously getting nowhere in this aisle. I don’t know whose fuckin’ idea it was to stop in the children’s section.”

Ashton scoffs in protest, but he’s grinning as Michael grabs him by the wrist and races them through the store.

**JANUARY 2016**

It’s been a busy couple of months, so when Calum declares it movie night, Ashton sees no reason to argue. Tour is starting next month, and since returning from Bali, they’ve been rehearsing their arses off between interviews and performances and the like. Ashton’s tired, but it’s a good kind of tired; he wakes up every morning excited for the day to wear him out.

Still, a movie night will be good. For morale, and everything.

They have to make do with the hotel accommodations, because they’re being put up for the night in preparation for some tour press tomorrow, but that works out alright, because Michael travels with an HDMI cable for precisely this reason. 

“Okay, what are we watching?” Calum demands, hands on his hips in front of the three of them. Michael and Luke have claimed one of the beds for themselves, and Ashton suspects they’ll be asleep before long. 

“Something bad,” he proposes. “Anyone have any bad film suggestions?”

“ _Notting Hill_ ,” Michael mumbles from where his face is pressed into Luke’s chest. “Film sucks.”

Calum rolls his eyes. “You have the worst taste in films.”

“ _Notting Hill_ is terrible,” Michael insists. “Worst ending of any film ever.”

“It’s romantic,” Calum argues.

“I’ve never seen _Notting Hill,_ ” Ashton says. Are they about to decide on a movie without rejecting ninety ideas first? Has that ever happened in the history of this band? “I would be down.”

“Really? You’ve not?” Luke asks, squinting at Ashton. “Your Hugh Grant education’s not complete, then. You’ve been walking the Earth a depraved man.”

“I was more of a Colin Firth guy.”

“Everyone in the world is a Colin Firth guy,” Michael says. “Doesn’t mean you can’t also be a Hugh Grant guy. Man’s fit.”

“Nobody said he’s not fit,” Calum says. “Are we agreed on _Notting Hill?_ Is that on Netflix?”

“It’s probably on Prime.”

“I don’t have Prime.”

“I have,” Michael says. “You can log into mine.”

So Calum logs into Michael’s Prime account, rents _Notting Hill_ , hits play, and crawls onto the bed Ashton’s laying on. He doesn’t even hesitate before fitting himself comfortably against Ashton’s side, drawing up his knees to lean them against Ashton’s thigh. Ashton lifts an arm and drapes it over Calum’s shoulders.

“You’ll have to get up if there’s any problems, you know,” he tells Calum. “Or if we need to pause or something.”

“Mike’ll do it,” Calum says, grinning over at Luke and Michael. Ashton wishes they could all just be together on one bed, but he doesn’t want to disturb the two of them when they look so comfortable. 

Not that he’s complaining about cuddling up with Calum.

As predicted, they barely get fifteen minutes into the movie before Ashton looks over to see Michael and Luke passed out, Michael snoring gently against Luke’s torso, Luke’s fingers loosely twisted into the collar of Michael’s shirt. Ashton watches them for a minute, endeared. Somehow he’s so full of love for them, despite having seen them all at their worst, despite everything; it’s almost scary to love three boys this much. If Ashton thinks about it too long, it _is_ scary, but so far he’s managed to avoid doing that.

“Knew they wouldn’t last,” he says quietly. Calum glances over and chuckles.

“They’re tired,” he says. “We will allow them a free pass.”

“Whatever, their loss,” says Ashton. 

“Our gain, though,” Calum says, looking at Ashton. Their faces are close, and Ashton feels his heart rate spike. “Now we can make out without anyone judging.”

Ashton almost chokes until he realizes Calum’s joking. “Of course,” he says, catching his breath. Calum smirks. 

“Thought I was serious?” he asks, poking Ashton’s cheek. “Come on, Ash, I’m not that easy.”

“Please,” Ashton says. “You wish. It’s a privilege to make out with me.”

Calum scoffs. “ _You_ wish.”

Okay, yeah, he does. But it’s not Ashton’s fault that Calum’s charming and funny and silly and serious and overall just — like, incredibly attractive. Maybe it would’ve been better to form a band with three blokes who were hideous arseholes. That’d be better than this, Ashton muses mournfully. Better than somehow fancying all three of them at once. He feels a bit like a creep.

It’s a moment before he realizes he should reply, but in lieu of saying anything he just licks Calum’s cheek. Calum ducks his head, giggling.

“Ashton! Gross!”

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” Ashton says innocently. “Talking of making out and all.”

“God, have you ever made out with anyone in your life?” Calum rubs his cheek against Ashton’s shoulder to clean it off. “Gross, that was disgusting. You’re disgusting. Someone needs to teach you to French kiss, sir.”

“Are you offering?”

Calum laughs. “Yeah, maybe. Are you taking me up on it?”

At some point Ashton thinks they’ve crossed from joking to serious, but he doesn’t know exactly when, and suddenly he feels like he has to navigate a completely different conversation. Calum’s joking, right? Isn’t he? What will happen if he says no? If he says yes?

“I think _you’re_ the one who needs French kissing lessons,” is what he says. “I’m doing it right.”

Calum grabs Ashton’s face with one hand, his palm overly warm against Ashton’s cheek. “You need to be taught the ways of the world. How are you ever going to get married if you don’t know how to kiss?”

“Get _married?_ You don’t think I’ll kiss whoever I marry before I marry them?”

“Of course not. The kiss at the altar is the first time people getting married ever kiss. I’m an expert, trust me.”

“Really, are you? Have you ever been to a wedding in your life?”

“No, _but,_ ” Calum says as Ashton laughs, “I’ve done lots of research in preparation of the upcoming one. We’re going to witness Alex and Lisa’s first kiss.”

“You’re so fucking weird,” Ashton says warmly. 

Calum beams. His eyes almost disappear with how much they crinkle, and his hand is still on Ashton’s face, thumb brushing the pulse point in his neck. “You’re not even watching the movie,” he says. “Why don’t you leave all the kissing business to me and just focus on Hugh Grant, alright?”

 _Why don’t we both take care of the kissing business?_ Ashton thinks, but what he says is, “You’re the one who offered to make out with me anyway.”

Calum sighs. “I take it back then. That’s fine. I can always make out with Luke or Mikey.”

And once again Ashton finds himself wondering if Calum is being serious or not. It would be easy to kiss him right now, and Ashton thinks that he probably would do it, and he even thinks Calum might kiss him back — 

Except. Michael and Luke.

Because Ashton can’t very well kiss Calum like he’s doing so at the exclusion of wanting to kiss his other bandmates. He likes all of them, and that means he can’t just kiss one of them. It’s not fair. It’s not fair to Ashton that he has to be like this, because anyway there’s something here, with Calum, and Ashton wants so badly to pursue it, to figure out what it is, to see if Calum’s as good at French kissing as he claims to be, but he can’t. 

Well. He could. But he won’t.

“Fine,” he says, as Calum releases Ashton’s face and rests his palm flat against Ashton’s chest instead. His fingers curl into the fabric and he snuggles up as close to Ashton as humanly possible, head tucked into the crook of Ashton’s neck. 

“Fine,” Calum yawns, closing his eyes. “I’m not going to sleep, for the record.”

Ashton looks down at him, amused. “Okay.”

“I’m _not_.”

“I believe you.” He doesn’t, as well he shouldn’t. Mere minutes later, Calum’s breathing has evened out and he’s asleep against Ashton’s shoulder.

There’s no way to stop the movie without disrupting their setup, so Ashton lets it play through to the end. Maybe that trick would work for him, he thinks, when Julia Roberts is at the bookstore, asking Hugh Grant to love her. Maybe he could just ask Calum. Maybe he could just ask Michael, ask Luke. _I’m just a boy, standing in front of his band, asking them to love him._

But real life is not a Hugh Grant film, and if it is it’s certainly not _Notting Hill._

(Maybe that’s for the best, though. Ashton would give up anything, really anything, to be in this band with these boys in any lifetime.)

**9 APRIL, 2016**

Calum offers a hand to Ashton. “May I have this dance?”

Ashton smiles, feeling childish and giddy, like some twelve-year-old with a crush. “Have you earned it?”

“I would say so,” Calum says. “I have to be in a band with you fuckers.”

Ashton accepts the hand up. “You love us,” he says, and Calum smiles too immediately to be anything but genuine.

“Yeah,” he says, and leads them to the dance floor. It’s some older song, something Ashton might remember from his mum’s wedding if he tried, but he doesn’t really care to. Calum slides his arms around Ashton’s neck, so Ashton links his fingers behind Calum’s back, and Calum smiles at him. Somehow, in the middle of a wedding crowded with people and strangers and musical legends, Calum smiles at Ashton like he’s the only person in the world.

“You think you’ll ever want something like this?” he asks, quietly. “Big wedding? Happy ending?”

“You’re asking if I want a happy ending?” Ashton says, amused. Calum makes a face.

“You know what I mean,” he says, and Ashton does.

He shrugs. “I think it’s going to be more complicated for me than that.”

“What do you mean?”

Ashton feels himself blushing, and looks over Calum’s shoulder instead of holding his gaze. “I mean, this is a bit…monogamous for me.”

Calum hums. “I see.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, um.” Calum breaks off, and when Ashton looks at him he’s blushing too. “I mean, if you — if you’re wondering, um, if you want…I don’t know what I’m saying.”

Ashton studies Calum’s expression. It’s very unlike him to stammer through a sentence like this. “What are you saying?”

Calum swallows. “Just that I agree. Like, me too. And it’s not a problem in the band, and I think I — if you wanted a happy ending, um, I think I — I mean, I know for sure I would be — I would too, with you, if you, if that’s something you want.”

Ashton stares at Calum. It _is_ something he wants; _Calum_ is something he wants, and now Calum knows that it’s not a one-and-done situation for Ashton, and neither is it for Calum. Ashton realizes that this is a moment if he makes it one but he can’t find the words, so instead he just surges forward and kisses Calum. 

Calum makes a surprised sound, and then he shifts and kisses Ashton back, and Ashton’s full of warmth, and he breaks away to smile broadly.

“Yeah, basically that,” Calum says, also smiling.

Ashton chuckles, and Calum sighs and settles his head on Ashton’s shoulder. They sway gently to the music. Across the dance floor, Ashton spies Michael and Luke in much the same position. Luke’s arms are tight around Michael’s neck and his head is leaning against his own bicep, face pressed into Michael’s neck. His eyes are closed, but Michael’s are open, cheek resting on the top of Luke’s head. They’re moving aimlessly around, not even keeping the rhythm of the song. Ashton feels hot and cold and bowled over with love, or longing, or something similar. 

Luke and Michael fit so well. But _Ashton_ wants to fit with them. He doesn’t think that’s so much to ask, that the four of them fit together. 

“Cal,” he murmurs, loath to shatter the moment. He wouldn’t if he weren’t gazing directly at them, but he wants to know if he’s on the right page here, and Calum seems to know more than Ashton does. “Are Michael and Luke, um — ?”

“An item?” Calum mumbles. “I don’t know. I sure fuckin’ hope so, by now, since Michael won’t stop talking about him.”

“I was going to say ‘like us,’” Ashton says.

“Oh. Yes, then.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” Calum says dryly, “or else knowing about Michael’s crush on Luke would have put a way bigger damper on our relationship.”

“Your what?”

“Are you deliberately obtuse,” Calum wonders, “or just genuinely not very observant?” Ashton makes a noise of protest. “Come on, Ashton, mine and Mikey’s. Me and Michael. You can’t have not known about that.”

“Are you and Michael together?”

“Yes,” Calum says slowly, like a three-year-old could have worked it out. “We’ve been together since you’ve known us, Ashton. Literally since before you joined the band.”

“How — what?” Ashton feels himself short-circuiting. It makes sense — it’s always been MichaelandCalum, from the very first — but it still takes Ashton a minute to recalibrate. “Okay, well, in my defense, you never said.”

Calum makes a move that might be a shrug. “I guess it didn’t feel like it needed saying. It’s just us, you know? I mean, it was me and Mikey before anyone else. Not,” he adds, “that I like you any less for it.”

“Glad to hear it,” Ashton deadpans. He tilts his head against the top of Calum’s and then realizes he’s mirroring Michael and Luke, and that sets him back on his original line of questioning. “What about Luke, though?”

“Fancies Michael,” Calum confirms, once again completely failing to address Ashton’s actual question. “And me, as well,” he says, which is more of an answer, “but we’ve already figured our shit out, so it’s all on Mikey now.”

“Were you planning to ever tell me about this?”

“Well, personally I’ve been waiting for you to figure _your_ shit out,” Calum says. He presses a kiss to Ashton’s collarbone. “Welcome to the party.”

Ashton shakes his head. “That’s hardly fair.”

“Better late than never.”

“But never late is better.”

“Don’t be such an old man,” Calum huffs, picking his head up to meet Ashton’s gaze. “You got there.”

Ashton watches as, across the dance floor, Luke’s lips move unreadably. Michael’s lips quirk in a smile. He and Luke exchange words, and then Michael’s gaze slides arounds the room and lands on Ashton and Calum. His eyes light up, and he says something to Luke, which causes Luke to turn and look as well. Ashton makes a face at them.

Michael just grins at him, and then turns back to Luke. They chat for a minute, Michael shaking his head and Luke blushing like crazy; it’s oddly wholesome, charmingly _them_. A couple whirl around each other to the final bars of the song, blocking Ashton’s line of sight just as he glimpses Luke lean in close to Michael.

“I think Michael and Luke are sorted,” he tells Calum, and Calum beams and turns them around to look.

“Fuck yeah,” he says. “I’m not saying romance is a competition, but I did totally seduce you before either of them.”

“You haven’t seduced me.”

“That’s because I haven’t put the moves on yet,” Calum says seriously. “Just wait.”

Ashton laughs. “You haven’t been putting the moves on? This is just standard Calum?”

“This is virgin Calum. This is, like, boring Calum. You’re easy to please, Ashton.”

“Maybe you’re just easy to like.”

Calum smiles. “Okay,” he says, sounding delighted. “You win. I’m seduced.” Ashton laughs again. Calum kisses Ashton’s cheek, quick and cheerful, and then kisses him on the lips for a second, just enough for the butterflies to kick back up. “You should go talk to them,” he suggests, stepping back from Ashton. “Or at least you should talk to one of them.”

“About?”

Calum makes a disbelieving face. “Don’t insult me,” he says. “Your crush on Luke is so obvious you could spot it from space. And if you don’t have a crush on Michael I’ll be offended on his behalf.”

Ashton blushes. “Okay,” he says, missing the contact from Calum. “Fine. I’ll talk to Luke.” He reckons if either of them are going to like him back, Luke’s the most likely, and despite having just seen Michael kissing Luke, a part of him doesn’t believe Michael could possibly fancy anyone who isn’t Calum. 

“Sick,” Calum says. “I’m gonna get something to drink. Come find me when you’ve finished, we should all go congratulate Alex and Lisa together.”

Ashton nods his agreement, and Calum skips across the dance floor to tug on Michael’s arm. He, Michael, and Luke have a brief conversation that Ashton doesn’t trust at all. Then Calum smacks a kiss on Michael’s cheek and another one on Luke’s and pulls Michael away, leaving Luke solitary on the dance floor.

Ashton is about to make his way over when Luke starts towards him. He stands still and waits until Luke is near enough to touch.

“Hey,” he says. Luke smiles timidly.

“Hi. Are you having fun?”

“Yeah,” Ashton says. “You?”

Luke nods. His cheeks flush. “You were right. Slow-dancing isn't so hard.”

“One day you’ll take me at my word,” Ashton teases. Luke breathes a chuckle. Nervously fidgeting with the hem of his jacket, Ashton continues, “Calum told me to talk to you.” 

Luke laughs. “Funny, he said the same to me,” he says. “Is Calum the smartest of us? That seems impossible.”

“Definitely _not_ ,” Ashton affirms. “None of us are smart, so get that idea out of your mind.”

Luke gives him a smile that’s tinged with uncertainty. “He says you’re the same as us.”

“I am.”

“Oh,” Luke says, as if he hadn’t believed it when Calum had said. “Well, cool. It’s okay if you like Calum or Mikey, like, I won’t get territorial, I promise. I mean — I don’t know about me and Michael anyway, but just because I’m with Calum doesn’t mean I’ll get upset if you like him. He’s really likable, so like, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“And if I like you?” Ashton asks, boldly.

Luke blushes. “Well, that would work out very well, but Calum’s much better for —”

“Yeah, I like him,” Ashton interrupts. “And I also like you. Does that work out?”

Luke stares at him. “I know you’re not mean enough to joke about this,” he says, “but just to be sure, are you being serious?”

“I’m being serious,” Ashton says. Luke keeps staring. “What?”

“I just feel like there’s no way my luck is this good,” Luke says, gaze still fixed on Ashton’s face like he’s trying to memorize it. “First Michael and now you? _And_ we’re at Alex Gaskarth’s wedding?”

Ashton laughs. “Oh my God, I forgot we’re at Alex Gaskarth’s wedding.”

“Maybe they put an aphrodisiac in the food,” Luke says suspiciously. “We should investigate that.”

“I really don’t think that’s it.”

“Well, while you’re still under the aphrodisiac influence, I might as well tell you that I like you too,” Luke says. He says it conversationally, as if the notion of Ashton being drugged up makes it easier to admit, which makes Ashton feel bizarrely endeared. 

“You’re such a weirdo,” Ashton says. “Can I kiss you?”

“If you’re so inclined,” Luke says, and then grins self-consciously. “I mean, yes, please.”

“Good to know,” Ashton says. “I’ll keep that in mind for when the aphrodisiac wears off.”

“That’s a shit move,” Luke informs him. “You’re a shit person.” 

Ashton smirks. Then Luke closes the space between them, kissing him hard, and it stops being funny. His hands hold Ashton firmly in place, fingertips stretching to graze the back of Ashton’s neck, and Ashton grabs Luke’s waist and pulls him closer. He can feel himself tilting his head upward, just a bit, and wonders when Luke got taller than him, and why he likes it so much.

When they part, Ashton fails to suppress a quiet gasp. For a moment all he can think to do is smile, and Luke smiles back, and they probably look like a pair of idiots, standing on the dance floor with everybody moving around them to some unfamiliar tune, but Luke looks so happy, so indulgently pleased, that Ashton can’t find it in himself to care how they appear. He loves that smile on Luke, and loves to know he’s the reason for it, or at least a part of it.

“We should go find Calum,” Ashton finally says, and Luke blinks and then nods. “He said to find him so we can all go congratulate Alex.”

“Great idea,” Luke says. “But I’m pretty sure you promised me a dance, so you owe me. And I will be cashing in when I see fit.”

Ashton smiles graciously. “That’s fair.” 

Luke offers his hand to Ashton, and Ashton takes it without hesitating, lacing their fingers together. This is clearly the right thing to do; Luke’s smile grows, and together they go in search of Calum and Michael.

The four of them catch Alex and Jack together, conversing by the drinks table. They light up as Ashton approaches, bandmates in tow.

“Hey!” Alex says, a broad smile painted on his face that hasn’t dimmed at all since Ashton saw him at the beginning of the reception. “You sneaky troublemakers. I thought I saw you.”

“Well, you invited us,” Ashton says, with an arm around Luke’s shoulders. “No take-backsies.”

“Damn,” Jack says, but he’s also smiling. There’s a glass of something definitely alcoholic in his hand. “Yo, it’s so fucking good to see you guys, we’ve missed you so much.”

“Excuse me, Jack, they’re obviously not here to see you,” Alex says, putting his entire hand over Jack’s face. Ashton laughs.

“Fuck you, yes they are!”

“We just wanted to tell you congrats,” Michael interjects. “Alex. I mean, Jack, if you’ve got something worth congratulating, we’d be happy to —”

“No no,” Alex says. “This is my moment. Stop giving Jack attention.”

“Yeah, Mikey, stop giving Jack attention,” Calum parrots, poking between Michael’s shoulder blades before he, too, slings an arm across Michael’s shoulders. Ashton thinks the four of them must look kind of silly, paired off like this but so obviously just carbon copies. 

“I’m joking, totally kidding,” Alex says. “Thank you, though. Seriously.”

“We were really stoked you invited us,” Luke pipes up. Ashton drums his fingers against Luke’s bicep mindlessly. “Michael cried.”

“I fucking did not!”

“He totally did, like a baby,” Calum puts in, and Michael makes an offended noise. 

“That’s such a lie! Stop throwing me under the bus!”

“Really tragic,” Ashton contributes. “Saw his name in your handwriting and just completely broke down. We tried telling him to be professional,” he laughs as Michael tries to cover Ashton’s mouth with his hand, “hey, stop it!”

“Fuck all of you guys! I hate you all.”

“Do you?” Jack raises his eyebrows, a mischievous smile on his face. “You guys looked pretty cozy on the dance floor.”

Ashton feels his cheeks redden. This is bait, and he refuses to bite, but Luke naively says, “What?”

“Especially you,” Jack says, grinning. “You sly dog.”

Luke giggles nervously. “Um. Oh.”

“We’re _not_ making fun,” Alex says, shooting Jack a look. “To be perfectly clear. We are in full support.”

“Yeah, what’s a little smooching between best friends on the dance floor?”

“ _Smooching?_ ” Michael repeats. “You couldn’t come up with any better word?”

Calum shakes his head. “Stop changing the subject. We’re trying to say congratulations on your wedding, Alex. You know how you’re _married_ now?” 

Ashton sends a silent thank-you to whatever deity is responsible for Calum Hood.

“Speaking of,” he says, “where’s Lisa?”

Alex’s face illuminates, and warmth floods Ashton just by proxy. It’s so obvious they’re in love, and it makes Ashton wonder if anyone’s name will ever do that to him. If anyone’s name already does. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Is that bad? Should I be keeping track of my wife?”

“Your wife,” Jack repeats, and looks at Alex, grinning. “Dude, it’s so weird.”

“I _know,_ ” Alex says excitedly. “It’s so fucking weird.” He looks so thrilled about it. 

“You have a _wife,_ ” Jack says, patting Alex exaggeratedly on the arm. “Oh my God, you’re like an adult now. What the fuck, man?”

Alex laughs and throws an arm around Jack’s shoulders. “Are you gonna cry again? It’s okay if you are.”

“Don’t expose me like that to 5 Seconds of Summer,” Jack protests, ducking his head.

“Again?” Luke says.

“He cried at the ceremony,” Alex says, over Jack’s various objections. “It was actually kinda adorable.”

“Stop it!”

“That’s kind of cute,” Ashton agrees. He’s about to turn to his bandmates, say _if none of you cry at my wedding I’ll be cross,_ but thinks better of it at the last second. “Anyway, in case we don’t see Lisa, can you tell her we say congratulations? And we wish you a long and happy marriage, of course.”

Alex beams. “Did you look up what to say to someone getting married?”

“Obviously we did,” Luke says. “Three of us aren’t even legally allowed to drink in America, you think we know what to do at a wedding?”

“Well, you all clean up pretty nice,” Alex says, giving the four of them a collective once-over and subsequent nod of approval. “So you got that down, at least.”

“Thank you,” Calum says. “You look alright yourself.”

“Oh, this old thing?” Alex looks down at himself.

“This old thing?” Jack mimics, gesturing drunkenly at Alex as a whole. “This old man? This big guy? _This_ old thing?”

“Okay, shut up,” Alex laughs, as Jack continues (“This elderly boy? This big man-child? This oldie but a goodie? This ugly bastard?”), and afford each of them a sincere smile, dripping with joy. “I’ll tell Lisa when I see her. Unless you catch her first, but, uh, I doubt it. Even I’ve had trouble pulling her away tonight.”

“That’s okay,” Michael says. “We really only came for the cake anyway.”

“There he is,” Jack proclaims, ruffling Michael’s hair. “I was wondering when you’d start bitching.”

“I can bitch!” Michael says. “I just thought I’d give Alex a short reprieve since it’s his wedding day.”

“Oh, please,” Alex says. “By all means.”

“No, we’ll leave you guys to it,” Calum says. Jack’s attention momentarily drifts by someone calling his name, and he turns his head to identify who’s said it.

“We’ll see you around the reception, cool?” Jack says, wrapping a hand around Alex’s wrist. “Al, Jeff is soaking wet.”

“What the fuck?” Alex says, following Jack’s gaze. “Oh my God.” To the four of them, Alex says, “See you guys around. And hey, we should write soon. Or just hang out. Whatever.”

“Sure,” Michael says. “We’ll have our people call your people.”

Jack laughs, pinches Michael’s cheek, and then pulls Alex away with a parting wave. 

Abruptly, the area feels much quieter. There’s a lull. Ashton squeezes Luke’s arm and then pulls away from him, and when he meets Calum’s gaze Calum gives him a significant look, cutting his eyes to Michael.

Right. Michael.

Ashton turns to Michael. “I think I owe you a dance,” he says, feeling a bit bold. He owes Luke a dance as well, but Luke must have developed some ability to read the room, because he doesn’t say anything. “May I?”

“C’mon, Luke, let’s go find Zack and Rian,” Calum says meaningfully, and he and Luke slip away before Ashton can take it back and ask them to stay. He’s nervous, but he trusts Calum, and also he thinks if Michael’s going to reject him, better for him to do it sooner rather than later. Just so everyone is on the same page.

Michael smiles shyly. “Yes, please.”

Ashton glances over Michael’s shoulder at the dance floor, which is full of people and not really playing romantic dancing music anyway. “Can we maybe go outside?” he ventures, thinking of how reckless they’d been before, of Jack poking fun at them. It had just been teasing, but now Ashton’s hyper-aware.

“Probably for the best,” Michael agrees. He takes Ashton’s hand when offered, and they both head for the doors.

It’s still light outside; the sun hasn’t quite begun its descent, so Ashton can see Michael perfectly as they come to a halt to the right of the entrance. Before Ashton can succumb to the nerves, he turns to face Michael and says, “May I have this dance?”

“I’ve already said yes,” Michael says, amused. He snakes his arms around Ashton’s neck, and Ashton links his hands together behind Michael’s back. They stand for a moment, Ashton gazing at Michael and Michael maybe letting him, maybe doing the same, before Ashton speaks.

“So I don’t know what Calum told you,” he starts, carefully. Then, “Uh, yeah. End of sentence, actually. I don’t know what he said to you. I’d love to know.”

Michael chuckles. Ashton feels the heat of his breath against his own face. “He said isn’t it lucky that all four of the members of this band fancy one another.”

Ashton exhales. “Oh. Good.”

“I wanted to hear it from you, though,” Michael says. His smile is a bit timid. “You really like me?”

Ashton doesn’t have the words to express just how impossible it would be _not_ to like Michael. “Yeah,” he says. “And you…”

“Oh yeah,” Michael says immediately. “So much.”

Ashton feels a smile threaten to crack his face open. “So you’ve been with Calum since…what, 2012?”

“2011, I think,” Michael says. He winces. “Don’t tell him I don’t exactly remember. It just feels like we’ve been together since we met, even though obviously that’s not the case.”

“And Luke…?”

Michael laughs. “Since about twenty minutes ago,” he says. “This worked out alright, didn’t it?”

“It worked out alright,” Ashton concedes, though that’s an understatement. “You know I didn’t know about you and Cal til tonight.”

“I figured,” Michael says. “You are the least observant band member.”

“Hey!”

“You are,” Michael says. “But also you’ve got the best hair, I reckon. Well, tied with Calum. And you smell the best.”

Ashton blushes. “Oh, well. That’s alright then.”

“Hey, Ashton?”

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Because of course, of _course_ if anyone’s going to ask it’s going to be the last person Ashton would expect to. “You can kiss me whenever you want for the rest of our lives,” Ashton says. He might be coming on too strong, but Michael seems delighted.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he says, and then kisses Ashton, arms tightening around Ashton’s neck as a cool breeze brushes his skin. Ashton’s not sure how he got lucky enough to be kissed by three separate and equally charming boys in one night, not to mention ones accompanied by the promise of more in the future, but he’s so fucking grateful.

Michael’s gentle and he sort of tastes like the dinner from before, and when his fingers twine into Ashton’s hair it sends a shiver down Ashton’s spine. For all that Michael’s advertised as the edgiest in the band, in reality he’s like molten marshmallow at his core, and right now Ashton’s never felt it more; this kiss is sweet as sugar. And Ashton knows that Michael definitely has it in him to be messier and needier, but this is perfect for now. He’s looking forward to learning what it’s like to kiss Michael every single way.

“Mm,” Michael hums happily when he pulls back, barely a breath. “You wanna be my boyfriend? My third boyfriend?”

Ashton huffs a laugh. “Yeah, alright. May as well.”

“Don’t sound too excited,” Michael deadpans.

Ashton steals another kiss. “I’d love to be your boyfriend. I’d love nothing more.”

“That’s more like it,” Michael says, affording Ashton a cheeky smile. “Calum will be so proud of us. Look, we _all_ figured it out in the time it took for Alex to get married.”

“I think that’s how we should measure time from now on. One Alex Gaskarth wedding reception.”

Michael laughs and rests his cheek against Ashton’s shoulder, lips grazing the slope of his neck. Ashton can feel him smiling. “Here’s to many more Alex Gaskarth wedding receptions with you.”

“Amen,” Ashton teases. He hugs Michael tighter, eliminating what little space there had been left between them. “And here’s to your boyfriend, and your other boyfriend.”

Michael’s laugh echoes over Ashton’s skin. “And yours and yours and yours.”

“That doesn’t make sense. You said too many _yours_.”

“Your mum doesn’t make sense.”

“ _Your_ mum doesn’t.”

“Okay,” Ashton says. “I think we should maybe go back inside now.”

“No, wait.” Michael shifts, burying his face in Ashton’s neck, and sighs. “Just one more minute. This is so nice.”

Ashton can’t argue with that. It _is_ nice, to sway in place with his arms around Michael, one of his favorite people on the planet, the springtime evening cleansing his lungs with every breath, warm under Michael’s embrace but not quite jet-lagged enough to be tired. Everything about it is nice, and Ashton is more than happy to yield to Michael’s request.

“As long as you want,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Michael’s shoulder. “We’ve got nothing but time.”

Maybe that’s not true of the wedding, but both of them know that Ashton’s not talking about the wedding anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading i hope it was enjoyable i hope my ot4 debut was acceptable :)) i'm on tumblr dot com [@clumsyclifford](http://clumsyclifford.tumblr.com/) where i will happily talk about anything and everything all the time whenever so feel free to come say hi !!! love you guys bye


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